


Christmas in the Desert Sands

by LCWells



Series: Indiana Jones [2]
Category: Indiana Jones Series, The Rat Patrol
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LCWells/pseuds/LCWells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas time, 1931, in the sands of Egypt but a missing parent provides anxiety for an anxious young Jack Moffett. Who can help him out? Maybe the lovely Marion Ravenwood or a grumpy Indiana Jones. </p><p>(This is a crossover set before "Raiders of the Lost Ark" and "The Rat Patrol" written in 2000, never published, and now extensively re-written in 2015.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas in the Desert Sands

Professor Indiana Jones waited at the train depot for the last train of the day. He could see the smoke rising from its stack but it was a good five minutes away. The crowd of Arabs around him stirred restlessly, anticipating the passengers from the coast, miles to the north. 

He'd spent a great deal of time in the desert over the years. He had been there during World War I now a decade pas, and now he was back, not as a soldier or a spy, but as an archeologist like his father.

 _No, not like my father. Nothing like my father_. His father was always buried in his books studying the legend of the Holy Grail and so many others. Indiana had no intention of being caught behind a desk studying manuscripts when there was so much to be discovered worldwide.

So he had contacted one of this father’s old friends, Professor Ravenwood, and found that there was an opening on one of his excavations in Egypt. True, it dealt with Roman ruins, but Indiana wasn’t fussy. The dig was close to where his friend, Salah, lived and there was a lot still to be explored in the area. He'd been there for two months.

Now, it was almost Christmas, a season which Jones didn't enjoy. It brought back memories of his father lecturing on the 1st century Christianity over dry turkey and slightly burned rolls. 

Right now, Professor Ravenwood had asked him to do a special job. His daughter, Marion, was finally coming out to join her father for the season, and the professor had asked Indiana to pick her up at the train depot.

The old train finally chugged up, pulling four rickety passenger cars behind the coal car. Indiana paced down the platform looking for her. 

He saw a gawky young man, English by the cut of his clothing, climb down from the first car and head for the last of the railcars. 

After a group of Arab women came down the stairs, a young woman came down, dragging two bulky bags. Her smile broadened as the boy took one from her, then held out his hand so she could descend the last step. They walked side-by-side into the depot.

He scanned the platform but saw no other Europeans.  _Well, I don't know about the boy, but_ _that had to be Marion Ravenwood. I'd better find her._

He waited until the train was pulling out before going in the white-painted mud depot. The waiting room was empty. Going out the front, he almost ran into the woman who was looking about, her bags at her side. 

She turned surprised by his sudden appearance.

He tipped his hat. “Miss Ravenwood?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Professor Indiana Jones. I work for your father.” She looked doubtful as she scanned him from head to battered boots.“I’m here to take you to your father.”

He fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his passport and his permit to excavate issued by the Egyptian government, and handed them to her.

She examined the documents, then handed them back with an enchanting smile. “Professor Jones, I’m pleased to meet you. Are you here for us both?”

“Both?”

“Have you seen my father?” the boy asked, coming around a corner. Indiana had been right. He was from England from his acent. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Ravenwood, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s okay, Jack,” she replied lightly. “This is Professor Jones who works with my Dad. He’s here to pick us up.”

“Us?” Indiana said in puzzlement.

“Yes. This is Jack Moffitt. His father is coming to see mine this Christmas,” Marion replied. “They both study Roman ruins and all that stuff.”

The boy and Indiana eyed each other suspiciously. The boy was about ten or eleven? Far too young for the woman who Jones estimated had to be nearer his own age of thirty. 

“Have you seen my father?” Moffitt asked again. “He said he’d meet us here.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Indiana said mildly. “And that was the last train.”

Marion laid her hand on Jack's sleeve. "Lets go and see if my father has some more information. We're all in the same hotel after all. We'll find him."

**

The expatriate community in the small city had opened its arms to the winter various archeological digs. The first Christmas party of the season was in full swing by the time Indiana came downstairs, wearing a tuxedo that strained over his shoulders now that he had muscles that he hadn’t had two months before. Digging did that to a man. 

He knew he looked good. He hoped that Marion would think so as well. 

 _Marion Ravenwood is a very lovely young woman_ , Indiana thought. _How old is she? Hmmm..no, Indy, don’t even think it._

Looking into the room from the hall, he saw that people were dressed to the hilt including Professor Ravenwood and his daughter who were dancing together. The music was provided by one enthusiastic trumpeter and several native musicians who were playing a German waltz amazingly well.

There was the Brigadier who was chuckling with fellow military men beside the alcoholic punch bowl. It wasn’t their red noses that tipped Indiana off to the fact that they were on their way to being sloshed; it was the extravagant way they were waving their hands around, and he thought he heard some mention of T. E. Lawrence.

Indiana had known Lawrence personally; he didn’t need to hear stories that were probably lies.

He was to join the Ravenwoods when the front door of the hotel opened, letting in a blast of crisp cold air, and Jack Moffett. He looked very worried.

“Haven’t found your Dad yet, eh?” Indiana asked.

Moffitt shook his head. “I was just talking with a city offiical, and he says he didn’t know of any other caravans coming in tonight.”

“You speak Arabic?

"Of course. We've excavated here for the last couple of years," Jack said with a trace of surprise in his voice. "I'm fluent in Arabic and German."

 _Of course you are,_ Indiana thought, then caught himself. There wasn't any reason why he should dislike the boy...except that Marion had smiled at him, and not Indiana.

In an effort to be friendly, Jones said, "Where was he coming from?

“Up near the coast.”

“The coast? That far? Why up there?”

“Father’s studying the Roman ruins. There’s a ruined villa that was uncovered last year by a storm. He thinks there might be a mosaic under some of the sand."

“You don’t think that he’s forgotten about the party?” Indiana asked. 

_Just because my father would forget, it didn’t mean that this Professor Moffitt would._

As was obvious from Jack’s response as the boy lifted his head proudly. “He said he’d be here. He has rooms for us both!”

“That’s true,” Indiana acknowledged. “What do you have planned now?”

“Thought I might ask if anyone knew anything,” Jack said, glancing nervously at the party. “Someone here might know something.”

“You’ve got most of the community, so they might. I’d suggest you start with the military – before they get too drunk,” Indiana said brutally.  He knew what would happen when young Moffitt started asking questions. He’d get brushed off and sent on his way, and the already uncertain young man would have a rotten Christmas on top of his father being missing. 

 _Serves him right. Dammit, Indy, that's not fair. It's not your family, it's his and he loves his father._  

“He’s not my responsibility,” Indiana said under his breath. His gaze was caught by Marion who was fanning herself by the window. Her long brown hair, held back by jeweled clips, swung over her bare shoulders. There was someone who was much more interesting.

Then, Jones saw Moffitt speak with her, and she lead him over to the officers to be introduced.

 _Well, the boy had all the luck didn’t he?_  

“Indiana?” Professor Abner Ravenwood came up to him, a champagne glass in each hand. He wore a suit that was at least pre-World War I, and hair was slicked back. However, his boots still had that day's dirt from their dig on them. “Are you having a good time?”

“Of course,” Indiana lied, politely accepting the glass. “Christmas is such good family fun.”

“Ah,” said the professor, eyeing him shrewdly. “Then you’ve heard?”

“Heard, sir?”

“That your father is in Egypt and plans to visit in the next few days. I’ve invited him to the dig.”

Indiana felt a pang of panic that even reaching his third decade couldn’t hide. He had left his father behind in New Jersey, and now like a genie, he was back. Unlike the Moffitt boy, he didn’t want to see his loving parent.

“How soon?” he croaked.

_Maybe I can be out of town. Or fallen in a really deep pit._

“He said he’d be here in a couple of days," Ravenwood said. "Planned to motor down from the coast but I haven’t heard anything recently. I’m a little more worried about Moffitt. He did promise to be here several days ago, but I haven't heard from him.”

“His son has faith that he'll be here.”

Ravenwood nodded. “Nice boy. I met him back in Germany when he was studying the language. Definitely his father’s son.”

Indiana scowled, trying not to flinch.

_His father’s son. Lucky boy._

“Where’s Marion?” he asked changing the subject.

“Dancing with the Brigadier, I believe,” Ravenwood said cheerfully. “I wouldn't suggest you cut in. He's been waiting all evening." 

Scowling, Indiana went outside and down the stairs to where the cars were lined up. The drivers smoked and joked between themselves.

“Where’s Salah?” he asked.

The foreman shrugged and waved to the desert sands. “He has gone out to the road to help with a caravan that is late arriving. One of his cousin’s sons is with them. He should be coming in soon.”

“Maybe I should go out and meet them,” Indiana mused. "There's only one road out of town -- "

“May I come with you?” said a voice behind him. He turned.

Jack Moffitt, the last person that Indiana Jones wanted to see, stood on the veranda with Marion Ravenwood on his arm.

"Please?" she asked.

Indiana gulped. The hell with the boy, Marion was so beautiful as she hitched her velvet wrap around her bare shoulders that Jones couldn’t imagine turning her down. In fact all he wanted to do was to go back inside, ignore the party and take her upstairs…

_Junior!_

He jumped. The mental voice reproaching him had the exact intonation of his father’s voice just after Indiana had done something outrageous.

_Seducing the daughter of his boss would be right up there._

Her perfume, lily-of-the-valley, drifted over. He was very glad when Jack cleared his throat.

“Can’t we go with you?“

The spell was broken and Indiana once again felt the cold desert air. Well, if he had to come with them, then Jack was the perfect chaperone. “All right, get in. You don’t mind riding in back, do you?”

They both shook their heads. Jack climbed in the back and Marion took the front seat of dented convertible. She pulled her wrap tight as Indiana drove away from the hotel.

There might not be a star in the east but as they drove further away from the city, they saw a magnificent panorama of stars above them. The road stretched in front of them was an endless historical path trod by Greeks, Romans, French, and Egyptians. All the British had done was paved it for their automobiles. The full moon was rising.

Marion sat beside him, her eyes wide and smiling. For her it was probably a great adventure. She was beautiful.

_Thank God for Jack. Or maybe, damn him._

A half-hour out, they  stopped. The only sound was the wind over the cold sands, and the occasional call of a hawk.

“Why did you stop?” Marion asked.

“We can’t go much further on this tank of gas,” Indiana replied. “I’ve got enough to get us back to the hotel, but that’s it.”

“Not enough to get to the pass, “ Jack said wistfully. “Thank you for your help, Professor.”

That title made Indiana feel old. He settled back against the leather car seat. “All right, let’s go home.”

“Wait!” Marion said, pointing toward the horizon. “What's that?”

They saw a dust cloud outlined by the moonlight. After a few minutes it resolved itself into twenty or so camels and riders. Three men led the group.

“We three kings of Orient are…” Marion sang softly into the crystal air as she watched the caravan come closer. “Gathering gifts we’ve traveled so far….”

Indiana felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. No, this was not something out of the Bible, this was simply a lost caravan finally coming to town. The men riding the three camels were well wrapped up against the cold but not crowned with gold. This was just reality. There was no such thing as magic.

“Over fields and fountains, moors and mountains…” she crooned.

“...Following yonder star,” Moffitt sang along. Standing up in the back, he waved his arms and called a greeting in Arabic to the riders.

One of the men laughed, and spurred his camel. Reaching them, he swept back his keffiyeh. “And greetings to you as well, young man!”

“Father!” Moffitt yelled in relief. 

Indiana felt a stab of jealousy. He wished he had the closeness that the Moffitts obviously did.

Salah riding the second camel, unwrapped his face and smiled at Indiana. "So good to see you! I have brought you a gift!"

“Junior?” said a familiar voice from man on the third camel. He unwrapped his scarf. 

Professor Henry Jones stared at his son.

“It is good to see you, sir,” Indiana said firmly trying to remember he was a grown man, not the school boy he had been when he last saw his father. "Merry Christmas."

“I’m glad to see you as well,” his father replied. “Who is the young lady?”

Indiana flushed. He’d actually forgotten that Marion was sitting beside him. “Marion Ravenwood, sir.”

“I’m so glad to meet you,” Marion said excitedly, leaning forward. Her wrap slipped off her shoulders, and Jones Sr.'s expression softened. “My father is so looking forward to your arrival!”

“What happened, father?” Moffitt interrupted.

“We were held up by a sandstorm,” his father said. “It cleared up a day ago. Why? Were you worried?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Moffitt replied his tone betraying his relief. “I never worry about you, sir.”

Both laughed.

Indiana wished he could just drive away from everyone. Except Marion. “May we offer you a lift, gentlemen?” he offered.

“It would be a little tight with all of us,” Professor Moffitt replied with a smile. “I think we’ll just ride into town like wise men on our camels, unless you’d prefer to go with your son, Henry. Jack can take your camel. You were complaining about the ride.” 

The boy looked pleadingly at Henry Jones who laughed. “If the boy wishes to go with you, then certainly I will give him this camel. It has been too long since I rode one of these beasts.”

“You’ve spent too long with your books,” Moffitt senior teased. “Come out and spend a year with me up at the ruins. Camping will be good for you.”

"No." Henry shuddered. He tapped the camel and the beast sank so he could dismount. “Here, boy, ride with your father.”

Salah beamed approvingly. He was a family man after all. 

Moffitt was out and to the camel's saddle without even looking behind him. 

Indiana felt a burn of annoyance that Jack hadn’t even said thank you. That died fast as wariness took over. His father climbed in the back of the convertable, settling comfortably against the cushions.

_If I drive very fast, then we won’t be able to talk until we reach the party, and there'll be other distractions. That's a plan._

“We’ll see you back in town,” Marion called, sitting down and pulling her wrap tight. “I’ll tell my father you’re coming.”

Both Moffitts raised their hands as Indiana backed up the car, turned and drove away.

“Well, they should arrive around midnight,” Marion said cheerily. “Just in time for Christmas.”

“You realize that the Wise Men arrived on Epiphany, don't you?” Indiana commented. “That’s two weeks from now.”

“Not tonight,” she laughed. “Tonight we’ll all have a merry Christmas.”

Indiana thought glumly of the looming presence in the back seat but said nothing. He wished with all his might that the seasonal magic might work, and if it didn’t? Well his father would be gone by New Year's, and Marion would still be here. Who knows where that might lead? His mood lightened instantly. 

Unexpectedly his father began to sing. “God rest you merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay…” Marion joined in.

Indiana hesitated for only a second before adding his voice. _Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be as bad as I think._

“Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy, Oh, oh, tidings of comfort and joy!”


End file.
